


SAINT GRAHAM

by deerdesigned



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bleeding, Cannibalism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Passionate Sex, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerdesigned/pseuds/deerdesigned
Summary: "Do you believe this killer has compassion for who he kills?""No, no... there is no passion in what he does. He does things methodically and with precision. In a passionate crime, it would be sloppy." Will mumbled and looked down at Hannibal's desk.Hannibal came behind him, chest pressing against his back, mouth ghosting along the skin of his neck. "You are a man of passion, are you not, Will?"Will lifted his jaw and closed his eyes, having a quick intake of air."Show me, Will, how passionate you are."





	1. CHAPTER ONE - BEFORE SESSION 1

He shook his head gently, gentle brown curls moving with him.  
“No, no… this… this was premeditated.” He mumbled and blinked once.  
Before him stood a masterpiece of tragedy. 

Melpomene must be watching from the Mount herself. 

Four bodies laid before him, coddled together. Three teenage girls, identified as Kimberly Hakchet, Janna Hakchet, and Lydia Hakchet. They were aged seventeen, fifteen, and fourteen. They all appeared to be tortured. Coroner pronounced cause of death exsanguination. They bled to death from all the lashings, cuts, and intense internal bruising. They were tortured. The girls appeared to be dead before they were in their deathly blue mother’s arms like swan’s wings engulfing it’s children. The mother, though, identified as Garcia Hakchet, was not tortured as the others. He’d have to review the autopsy to see the specifics of her death. But, the coroner confirmed she was killed last.

“So, you think she knew her killer?” Jack interjected mid-thought.  
Will blinked once more and had a quick intake of breath, nodding. “There were no signs of forced entry, and this was over a course of days. He had to be familiar, or at least, unseeming…” He trailed off.

Jack nodded. “Alright, everyone, clear the scene,” he glanced at Will, “get me when you have something.” He said and made his exit.  
Will took a deep breath and closed his eyes, lifting his chin in the slightest. A warm sensation filled his body, like a new life was breathed into him from his heart outward. Soft, ambient pulses filled his body as he exhaled. Then, he opened his eyes.

“I wait at the door with a bottle of wine and a basket of bagels. None will be eaten at the end of the night. Ms. Hakchet invites me in, and I come inside. I lock the door behind me as she leads me to the living room where Kimberly, Janna, and Lydia are watching television. This is where my terror begins.”

Will pulled out a silenced Glock Twenty-Six and shot one bullet in the air. Everyone in the room froze in terror. His eyes trailed to the eldest, Kimberly. He grabbed her roughly by the hair and pulled her off the couch, moving her to the table. He throwed her over it and pressed the gun against her back. He expertly tied her wrists to either side of the table and swiftly turned around, aiming the gun at… the mother. It was about her. It was always about her.

“I torture Kimberly first. I whip her and beat her in front of her mother’s and sisters’ eyes. I prolong the pain for her. She dies in a day. The second day I dedicate to the middle child, Janna. It takes longer for her to die. The third day I torture Lydia. I make sure Ms. Hakchet watches, but why…” He mumbles to himself before coming to a realization. “I want Ms. Hakchet to reveal something to me. Renounce something. Her daughters were a means to an end.”

He dragged the limp and bloodied corpse of Lydia to the front of the fireplace, where the others laid. Ms. Hakchet was on the couch, face white as a ghost and body cold. She could pass as dead herself. A smile creeped onto Will’s face, and he lowered his gun.

“I gave her a chance to escape.”

She ran to the exit, but she will never reach freedom. He shot her spine with expertise. Her legs were useless. He casually stood in front of her and she starts crawling… to her children. She coddled them as she did when Will had initially arrived there.

“I watch as she bleeds out with her children in her arms… This is my design.”

**__**__

## **JACK’S OFFICE - 00:09 MILITARY TIME**

“He wanted Ms. Hakchet to say something — reveal something —” Will said with passion, standing before Jack.  
“But what? There’s no clear motive with this guy, Will.” Jack replied.  
“Yes! Yes, there is. He didn’t like something about Ms. Hakchet. She was a false believer. He wanted her to say the truth — admit it!”  
Jack put a hand on his chin and leaned back in his chair. “So you’re saying this was religious? We know that Ms. Hakchet and her family were openly Catholic.”  
Will nodded and paced around the room. “He probably has something against God. My guess would be a lost family member, loved one. He has some sort of spite against God, and anyone who follows him. This was personal. But not to the Hakchets, to God himself.” He stopped pacing and looked at Jack, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.  
“So we’re looking for a guy, probably in his forties or fifties, has some grudge against God and is taking it out on whoever follows him?”  
He nodded again and sighed softly, taking a seat in front of Jack’s desk. “He won’t kill like this again, Jack. But believe me, when he kills, we’ll know it.”  
Jack let out a hefty sigh and licked his lips. “Get some rest, Will. You have an appointment with Doctor Lecter in the morning, don’t you?”  
Will laughed softly and shifted his jaw. “I’m sure he won’t mind if I skip a day. It’s not like I’m a patient or anything.”  
He scowled and leaned forward. “I mind, Will. This job is dangerous, and I don’t want any of what happens here go on out there,” he gestured with his hands. “Go, Will, we’ll continue this conversation tomorrow.  
Will bit the corner of his lip and left his office, keeping his head down. He doubt he could get any sleep. This case was too fresh in his mind and thoughts were racing through his head. If he slept, he wouldn’t be sure what he would see on the backs of his eyelids. He hoped he wouldn’t see Abigail again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Gore, Nightmares, Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Disclaimer: This story will have religious themes, but this is in no way insulting or commenting on religion. It is simply using religion to perpetuate the story

### HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - 08:37

Will nervously fumbled with his fingers, sitting outside of Hannibal’s office. This wasn’t necessarily what he thought of doing on his free time, but the psychiatrist’s insight was invaluable. He felt butterflies — monarchs, he was sure — fluttering in his stomach with an ache to be freed. Will felt like a child waiting outside the principal’s office. Eventually, the door opened, and he inhaled sharply and sat up in his seat. Hannibal smiled at him and held the door opened for him. “Come in.”

Will avoided any possible eye contact with Hannibal Lecter as he entered the garishly simple office. He sat down in his usual seat and crossed his legs. Hannibal closed the door and sat down across from Will, crossing his legs as well.

“Alana tells me you have a new case.” He said with interest and titled his ear towards Will in the slightest.  
“Yeah, uhmm, I-I brought the case file.” Will reached into his bag and pulled out a cream-colored folder. He reached over and handed it to Hannibal. Graceful fingers accepted the gift as he opened it and began examining the papers inside.  
“He has an affinity for the saints.” He commented and handed it back to the other.  
Will gave him a questioning face and Hannibal happily answered his non-verbal question.  
“Saint Sophia. In an attempt to renounce her faith, they tortured and slaughtered her daughters before her eyes. They let her bury them before they killed her too.”

Will pondered for a moment before snapping his fingers. “That’s it. He — he wants her to renounce her faith.” Again, Hannibal smiled at his experiment.

“Why, Will? Why would he want her to do such a thing? Perhaps a grudge against God?” He suggested coyly and shifted his position.

Will’s nose flared and he shook his head. “No, no, he had some… connection to the Hakchets. There was emotion poured into every whip, every punch… I can’t…” He held his forehead and grunted softly. Hannibal stood up and walked to his desk. “Do not overwork yourself,” he reached for a glass, “it will come to you in due time.” 

He observed Doctor Lecter with keen eyes, watching as hands opened a whiskey bottle, letting the honey colored liquid pour into a thick and decorative glass.

“Should you really be drinking at this time? I mean, it is kinda early.” Will commented, in a sort of snarky tone.  
“Ohh, this is not for me.” Hannibal strolled to the other and handed him the glass. “This is for you.”  
Will’s brow furrowed in confusion but he accepted the whiskey glass. He took a sip and grunted softly.  
“It will help with your headache for now.”  
Another scowl from Will. “Who said I had a headache?”  
Hannibal sat back down. “I just assumed. Regardless, it looks like you could use some. You are not on hours, are you?” He quirked an eyebrow.  
Will simmered down and took another sip. God, he hated it when Hannibal was right. He shifted his position once more, licking his lips. The motive was still unclear for Will and he knew that there was only way he could understand this man more. And that left a pit in his stomach.

### JOHNSON’S RESIDENCE - 15:17. THREE DAYS LATER.

Will licked his lips and walked around the house, keeping an acute eye for every minute detail or moment. With casefile in hand, he started with objective facts.

Barron Johnson, aged fifty-six. Male, African-american. No preferences. Mutilated in his home over a course of an entire day. He likes to take his time.

A theatrical orchestra of a sinner’s pleas. The acoustics of the foyer were remarkable. This was not only a death of a martyr, it was the pain of a man who was let down by the one deity who promised to protect him. This is was an act of vengeance due to his ruthless betrayal. The borderline obese man was strung up with piano wire from his own house, the fragile wires ruthlessly cutting into his skin. His hands were tied behind his back, and a face of mortification laid permanent on his face. An act of betrayal returned with another.

Arrows from Mister Johnson’s own collection pierced through his body, each one manually rammed into his flesh. The precision of the placement of them, though, suggested he wanted Mister Johnson to live for as long as he could, similarly to the Hakchets. Though the crime was different, it was all in the same. Will could feel it, the hurt of the man, the determination to get some information from these people. What, though? That still laid dormant in his mind. He glanced to the foyer table, which had a familiar basket of bagels and wine glass — unopened. Jack and the other detectives would have to track recent purchases. Will closed his eyes and let his never ending imagination consume his reality for a new one.

“I come to the door with bagels and wine, similar to what I did for the Hakchets. Mister Johnson lets me in welcomingly, not seeing a threat with me,” He chuckled to himself grimly, “How mistaken he will be.”

Will set the basket and wine on the table and followed Mister Johnson to the living room. There, he pulled out his gun, holding it firmly in his hands. The confusion on the other man’s face, it… hurt him, somehow. He didn’t want to hurt Mister Johnson, he just wanted him to realize… realize what?

“I use my own rope to tie him to the column in the living room. He does not resist my demands in the slightest. There, I find his arrows and force them into his flesh one by one, but not to kill him. Not yet. Only if he resisted my words would I let him die.” Will pondered for a moment. “None of the neighbors heard Mister Johnson’s demise…” He shook his head and broke from his imagination for a moment. It was the same situation with the Hakchets. They were brutalized for days but no one suspected a thing until it was too late. There had to be some way he was silencing them, keeping them quiet. He needed to continue.

“Once he is dead, I strip him nude and tie him to his chandelier using his own piano string… This is my design.”

Will immediately went outside the house to Jack, who was leaning against a fence. “He knew both the Hakchets and Mister Johnson. He knew that Mister Johnson has arrows, a piano. He’s been inside their houses before.” He said passionately. “We’re looking for a spiritual leader. Priest, pastor, anyone who would leave these people vulnerable.” Jack nodded and licked his lower lip. “He gained their trust just to do this to them… why?” He said, more to himself. Will chuckled in a deadpan tone and put his hands in his pocket. “This guy doesn’t to hurt them. He feels… obligated to do so.”  
Jack gave him another nod and pulled out his phone. “I want you and Lecter to work together to get a psych profile on this guy, today. I expect only the best from you two, no bullshit.” He snapped and glared at Will.  
Will was appalled at Jack’s aggressiveness but nodded quickly, itching the back of his neck. “Have Hannibal meet me after my lecture.” He said with slight reluctance.

### LECTURE HALL - 14:46

Will watched as the ocean of students flowed out of the room, packing up some of his things. Maybe if he said he forgot he would avoid the conversation altogether. But, as usual, Hannibal showed up fashionably one minute late. Will quickly looked down at his feet at the presence of Hannibal, tapping his foot on the floor. Hannibal scanned the room and fixed his suit jacket. “I would not suspect you being the scholarly type.” He smiled. “Jack said you prefered to meet here over my office.” Hannibal stated in a more questioning tone.   
He side-smirked and neatly collected some papers. “It’s more convenient for me, that's all.” He tucked them into a folder.  
Hannibal watched curiously, keen eyes following frantic fingers.  
“What did you observe at Mister Johnson’s house?” He asked to fill the deafening silence of the room.  
“I saw a man who was betrayed by God,” he took off his glasses and set them on the podium. “He is trying to enlighten the people he knows. Make them realize God has betrayed them too. He makes them choose, I-I’m guessing, the truth or God. All the victims chose God.” he muttered under his breath.  
“Would you say he knew his victims intimately?” Hannibal questioned in a very professional sort of way.  
“Yes. I assume he’s some sort of spiritual leader to all victims. Jack needs to find out if they went to church, if they did — where? Who is there with them? Once we find the common factor of where he chooses them, I’m sure I can find him.” He licked his lips.  
Hannibal nodded slightly and lifted his chin, taking a deep breath. “I brought food. Help keeps the mind active.” He smiled warmly. Will gave the other a suspicious look but accepted the proposal.   
Hannibal reached into his satchel and took out a container along with a fork.  
Will took the container and opened it, observing the contents inside. Inside was perfectly cooked white rice with black beans.  
“The chicken was slaughtered this morning. I made sure to get it fresh.” Hannibal took out a container of his own. Will grabbed the fork and took a piece of the meat, putting it in his mouth. He hummed in delight. “This is amazing,” he takes another bite. “You cooked this yourself?”  
“Yes,” he smiled, “I went to Puerto Rico for a friend’s wedding. The caterer, who was native to the island, taught me what he knew. It was a very humbling experience.” he remembered fondly and took a bite of his own meal.  
Will listened and nodded in acknowledgement, starting to eat some of the rice and beans.  
“God is humorous, no?” He said and delicately took the meat into his mouth. “He lets his followers get murdered in such brutal ways just to prove their faith.” He paused for a moment. “Do you think he watches them while they suffer?” He tilted his head towards Will.  
“I’m not in any position to make a profile on God,” he mumbled and looked down. “But if I were to, maybe he loves the fact that people would suffer and die for him. It makes him feel…”  
“Powerful,” Hannibal interjected.  
“... Powerful.” Will reiterated.

### GRAHAM RESIDENCE - 23:09

“Eat your food, Abigail,” he said in a playful tone and pushed a plate of raw liver towards her.  
“Yes, father,” she said back and smiled at him from across the stream. The forest today was awfully quiet.   
Abigail’s smile became jaded, and eventually left her face completely. Blood started gushing from her neck, though she was indifferent to it. Will stood up in shock and blinked a few times as Abigail’s lips turned blue.  
“See?” She said in her true father’s voice. “See?”

Will gasped and his eyes shot open. His lungs ached for air as he panted desperately for it. He felt the sweat on his forehead, neck, and back. It took him a moment to settle down before he felt a large mass jump onto the bed. He smiled softly and reached out to touch the multicolored fur.  
“Hey, Winston,” He spoke, “What are you still doing up?”  
Winston whined and wagged his tail, licking his face. Will chuckled and pet his head. “I’m alright, buddy, it was just a nightmare.” He sat up.  
His head suddenly turned to the side and he jumped off the bed, running to the door. He started barking, and soon, his other dogs joined in. Will stood up and ran a hand through his hair, staring at the door suspiciously. He slowly walked to the table by the door and pulled out a glock from underneath. He quieted his dogs before hiding behind the door, his fingers feeling around for the handle. He swung it open and cocked his gun outside the door. To his surprise, there was no one there, but they left a white box at his doorsteps. Will kneeled and examined it quizzically before checking to see if anyone was still around. Once he concluded that it was safe, he lowered his gun and brought the box inside. His dogs crowded around him, trying to get a look at the box. He calmed them and set the box on the table, frowning at it. Would it be a good idea to open it? It was most likely from the serial killer they were chasing after now, and if not, it could be a past enemy he made. But, morbid curiosity got the better of him, and he moved his hands to the sides of the box. Slowly, he raised the lid and peeked inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to pick up here in the story :>

### JACK’S OFFICE - 08:37

“I keep telling you, Jack, the closer he gets to these things—”  
“I know!” Jack yelled back, which caused Alana to stiffen. “But I need him. No one else, not even you, can do what he does. If I don’t have him—”  
“Soon, you won’t have him!” Alana raised her voice and stood up. “You are driving Will insane! I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed the circles under h is eyes getting darker, his speech getting more scattered; all the classic signs of being on the verge of a breakdown!” She shifted her tone, “as his friend and a professional I strongly advise you against letting Will pursue this case anymore.” She crossed her arms and glowered at him with high disdain.  
“I hear your advice, but I choose not to follow it.”  
“He was sent a hand, Jack! You can’t ignore what’s right in front of you because it interrupts your plans!” She snapped passionately. After, she took a moment to calm down, and Jack was bewildered by her reaction.  
“I’ll consider it, okay? But as of right now, he’s still in the saddle. I just need a little more on this guy before we can make a connection, and you know Will’s the only one that can make that jump. After that, he’s out of it.”  
Alana thought for a moment and shook her head. “It’s always the next thing. Next case, next profile, but which one will actually be the last one? I’m sure as hell Will can’t handle what you want him to do.” She picked up her purse and sighed. “I have a lecture on childhood development now. Please, listen to me for once.” She took her travel mug and stormed out of his office.  
Jack let out a deep sigh and sat down in his seat, rubbing his temples. He only had a moment of solitude before Hannibal entered the room. 

He paused at the door, folding his hands behind his back. “Am I intruding?” He asked politely. Jack shook his head and sat up, putting his hands on the desk. “Sit,” he gestured to the chair. Hannibal made his way to the chair and sat down, setting his belongings to the side of him.  
“I saw Alana leaving your office. She seemed upset.” His voice was very controlled, very analytical.  
“It’s nothing, she just gets passionate about things. You know how she is.” He muttered and sighed once more.  
“Any progress with Will?” Jack finally asked.  
Hannibal gave him a small smirk and sat up in his seat. “That is what I have come here for. Will is still suspicious of my intentions, and for the better of both our interests, I need him to be able to trust me. You have more contact with him throughout the day.” He shifted his position.  
Jack smirked and nodded his head, pointing at Hannibal. “I like the way you think, Doctor.” He lowered his hand. “I’ll plant the seeds, but it’s your responsibility to cultivate them. Got it?”  
Hannibal’s smile only grew. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

### HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - 12:04

“Alana, I understand your concern, but I see nothing wrong with Will when we have our sessions.” He said to her.  
Alana’s blushed cheeks grew more hot. “He’s Will. Of course he would hide if he has something wrong. He doesn’t want anyone to know how scared he is!” She crossed her arms. “Jack won’t listen to me, which I expected, but I’ve known you for years, Hannibal. You know I wouldn’t be so concerned about this unless it was important.” She changed her tone. “We’re both Will’s friends. As his friends, we should have his best interests in mind.”  
Hannibal took a moment to admire Alana’s use of the rhetoric triangle before responding. “I never said I don’t have Will’s best interest in mind. What I am concerned about for Will is that he consumes himself with the work. I would prefer if he would see he more on a regular basis so he could have a stable rock in the coursing river of his mind.”  
Alana heard his words and relaxed her shoulders. “I can try talking to Will, see if he’ll see you as a patient.” She sat down and held her forehead. “I need help understanding why this guy would send Will an arm. That doesn’t seem like his M.O.” She whispered under her breath. Hannibal neatly collected some papers. “Have you considered it might not be the Saints murderer?” He asked and poured some brandy.  
She contemplated for a moment and put a hand on her jaw. “Who else could it be?”  
Hannibal walked to her and handed her a glass. “Perhaps an old enemy he made when he was on homicide. Or, even, the copycat we have been dealing with.”  
Alana tensed at that and sat up. “Why would the copycat do that to him?”  
Hannibal smirked a little and sat down across from her. “Maybe he is saying he will lend Will a hand.”  
“In catching this killer? What are the rookies calling him, the Basanistes?” She took a sip of the brandy and hummed at the rich flavours.  
“Will should be coming in soon, Alana. I believe you should be on your way.” He said, deterring from the topic.  
She nodded in acknowledgement and drank the rest of the drink quickly before setting it aside and standing up. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.” She took her bag and left.

Hannibal walked to her seat with a napkin and picked up the used glass, wiping it down. He set it in a dirty pile and sat down, staring at the empty seat in front of him. He had been revising his recipe for his brandy. More human fat seemed to make it taste better. He would have to have Will’s opinion before he finalized it.

It was ten minutes before it was Will’s appointment.

Will came in a few minutes late. He had just overviewed the autopsy of Mister Johnson. Good thing, too, because he could share his findings and hypotheses. The door was left open, which he thought was odd, but he entered the office anyway. He found Hannibal sitting in his usual seat, legs crossed and all attention on him. “Sit,” he said in a welcoming tone. Will sat down across from him and set his bag to the side. “I just came from the Johnson autopsy. They say he died from exsanguination, the same as the Hakchets. But, there was something different. He’s evolving his strategy.” He leaned forward and bit his lip. “He wants to do more than just kill people. He wants to enlighten them. What he’s doing right now isn’t enlightening anyone.”  
Hannibal listened intently, watching Will’s pink lips speak. He was but a lamb, juicy and plump. Ready to be slaughtered. It was almost irresistible not to take him now, but, he had to wait. Will was not ripened quite yet.  
“We know who he is.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a vanilla colored folder and handed it to Hannibal. He took it and opened it, going over the papers inside.  
“His name is Abel Gibbons. He was a priest at All Saints Catholic Church in Brookeville, Maryland. He lost his wife and newborn daughter to HIV AIDS, pneumonia a few months ago. We found him because of a concerning posts he made on Facebook when his wife and daughter died. His father was a schizophrenic, so, I’m assuming due to the stress of losing his wife and daugher it manifested.”  
“‘Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it; that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, that he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.’”  
Will gave the other a quizzical look. “I didn’t pin you as a Bible buff.”  
“You assumed wrongly.” He uncrossed his legs.  
Will frowned and thought back for a moment on his words. It was like a click, a moment of realization that fit the puzzle pieces together. “They were all members of the church…” He thought for a moment. “He doesn’t want to enlighten them. He wants them to suffer. Like he suffered. He kills them like martyrs to show the pain God had made him go through. It’s their fault as much as God’s that his wife and daughter are dead.”  
Hannibal smiled proudly at Will. “He considers the Church and God one entity.” He commented.

Will stood up and paced around the room. He stopped at his desk and looked at his drawings curiously. “Is this all from memory?” He asked, sifting through sketch of a renaissance-era building.  
“Yes. That used to be one of my favorite places while I was studying in Florence. I remember it as if I was still there.” He smiled pleasantly and recollected the rich taste of the art curator.  
“Do you believe this killer has compassion for who he kills?”  
“No, no… there is no passion in what he does. He does things methodically and with precision. In a passionate crime, it would be sloppy.” Will mumbled and looked down at Hannibal’s desk.  
Hannibal came behind him, chest pressing against his back, mouth ghosting along the skin of his neck. “You are a man of passion, are you not, Will?”  
Will lifted his jaw and closed his eyes, having a quick intake of air.  
“Show me, Will, how passionate you are.”  
“Doctor Lecter, this is highly unprofessional,” he breathed out and opened his eyes, looking back at Hannibal.  
“I am one for the unorthodox.” His firm hands went to his hips and Will shivered.  
“Doc—”  
“Quiet. Think with your soul, not your heart,” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in Will’s neck. “Still that awful aftershave.” He chuckled and held back to the almost irresistible urge to sink his teeth into his skin.  
Will was still in shock. He never thought this would happen, not really. He had dreams about it, but he never thought it would come to life. He had dreams about being passionate with Hannibal, lost in pleasure, just for the raven to come and take everything away from him. Only if he knew they were both in the same body. He suddenly pulled away, panting for air. “I-I need to go,” he said frantically and grabbed his bag, rushing out of the office.  
Hannibal sighed in disappointment and sat at his desk, rubbing himself through his pants. He wasn’t unfamiliar with this, if anything, it was normal to finish himself off after a session with Will. This time, though, it was different. He knew Will would soon join him.

### FLINCHER RESIDENCE - 22:09

Ohh, how she laid so serenely. It caused Abel to feel a slight bit of sorrow for what he was going to do. He couldn’t help but run a hand through her brunette hair, closing his eyes. She sprung awake at that, her eyes widening. Before she could scream he smothered her with a hand, moving to lay on her chest. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he mumbled but she didn’t stop fighting back. Now with all his weight on her, he could use his hands. He tied her wrists to both bed posts and pulled away from her, his face blank.  
“You will pay for what you have done to my family. All of you will.”


End file.
